The Kentucky Ranger
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Edward T. Curnick >> The Kentucky Ranger
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13 THE KENTUCKY RANGER
By
EDWARD T. CURNICK, A.M.
Author of A Catechism on Christian Perfection.
The Christian Witness Co.
Chicago, Ill.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
The story, "The Kentucky Ranger," to a large extent is built around the
life and character of one of the most famous early pioneer preachers of
the West.
Many of the incidents in his career are recorded, but have been treated
as to time, place and authorship according to the demands of the work
with the freedom belonging to the writer of fiction.
A number of years ago some of the chapters in the narrative were
printed in "The Epworth Era," of Nashville, Tennessee. Thanks are
hereby extended to the paper for releasing the copyright.
Copyright 1922
THE CHRISTIAN WITNESS CO.
Transcriber's Note: The Table of Contents was not contained in the
text. It has been generated for the convenience of the reader.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
The Ranger.
CHAPTER II.
An Old Time Camp Meeting.
CHAPTER III.
Swapping Stories.
CHAPTER IV.
The Trail of the Serpent.
CHAPTER V.
Rowdies in Camp.
CHAPTER VI.
Under the Pine Trees.
CHAPTER VII.
The Horse Race.
CHAPTER VIII.
Prayer In a Dance Hall.
CHAPTER IX.
Wanted, a Mission School.
CHAPTER X.
The Mission School Established.
CHAPTER XI.
A Kentucky Feud.
CHAPTER XII.
The Shameful Plot.
CHAPTER XIII.
Into a Pit (or Pitch).
CHAPTER XIV.
Returning Thanks.
CHAPTER XV.
Cupid's Chariot.
CHAPTER XVI.
Horse Thieves.
CHAPTER XVII.
Lynch Law or the Gospel.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Apple Blossoms.
CHAPTER XIX.
A Proposal Without Words.
CHAPTER XX.
Kidnapped.
CHAPTER XXI.
The Search.
CHAPTER XXII.
The Rescue.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A Battle With Moonshiners.
CHAPTER XXIV.
"I Thee Wed."
THE KENTUCKY RANGER
CHAPTER I.
The Ranger.
"Glory to God! another sinner's down! Glory! Hallelujah! Amen; Pray on,
brother; you'll soon be through. Glory! Glory!"
These words were shouted by two young men and a young woman who were
returning through the Kentucky woods from a camp meeting. They were
riding in a smart spring wagon drawn by two good horses. The young man
who was not driving would fall into the wagon, crying for mercy, and
the driver shouted: "Glory to God! another sinner's down!" and the
young lady added: "Keep on praying, brother; you'll soon be saved.
Glory! Glory to God!" Then the young men would change places, and the
other would shout: "You'll soon get through, brother; pray on. Glory!"
These persons acted thus to tantalize a camp meeting preacher who was
riding on horseback ahead of them. He detected their mockery and tried
to outride them; but his horse being somewhat lame he could not escape
them.
The preacher remembered that at a little distance beyond the road ran
through a swamp but that a bridle path wound around it. Putting spurs
to his horse he made for this path but the driver, keeping on the road,
whipped up his horses. Driving into the swamp in his haste and
excitement he did not notice a stump at the side of the road. Crash!
went the fore wheel against the stump, and mounting to its top over
went the wagon into the mud and water. The two young men took a flying
leap into the swamp, and the young lady was thrown out. She was almost
smothered before she was rescued by the young men. While they were in
this predicament the preacher rode up to the edge of the morass.
Raising himself in his stirrups he shouted at the top of his voice:
"Glory to God! Glory to God! another sinner's down! Hallelujah! Glory!
Glory!" Then he added: "Now you poor, miserable sinners, take this as a
judgment from God upon you for your meanness, and repent of your wicked
ways before it is too late." With this he left them, covered with mud
and shame, to their reflections.
Jasper Very (for this was the preacher's name) continued on his way,
now laughing at the sorry plight of his mockers, again singing a hymn
with such power that the leaves of the trees seemed to tremble with the
melody, and anon lifting his heart in prayer to his Maker. The object
of his ride through the woods was to visit a settler who a short time
before had been caught by a falling tree and suffered the fracture of
his leg. The man of God brought the consolations of religion to the
injured man and his family. After partaking of their plain but
hospitable fare, he went to the barn for his faithful horse. While he
is preparing to mount him we shall attempt to describe this backwoods
preacher's appearance.
We see at once that he is a splendid type of Kentucky manhood. He
stands six feet two inches in his heavy rawhide boots, but his frame is
so well proportioned that he does not seem so tall. His head is massive
and his hair as thick and disheveled as a lion's mane; it cannot be
kept in order. His eyes are dark blue, and can twinkle with merriment
or blaze with indignation. His mouth is of medium size, mobile, yet
strong; when closed the drooping corners give the face a set
expression. Great firmness and decision are shown by the broad but
rounded chin, which forms a base for a smooth-shaven countenance. His
frame is large and powerful and is overlaid with muscles hard as iron
and elastic as steel. His hands are large and have a Samsonlike grip in
them. A long coat of homespun cloth is well fitted to his body, with
waistcoat and trousers of the same material. A black stock loosely tied
about his neck sets off a white shirt of coarse linen. His whole
make-up gives one the impression of fearlessness, determination and
energy, mixed with gentleness, kindness and charity. Humor shines in
his face like heat lightning in a summer cloud.
Jasper Very's parents were pioneers from the State of Virginia. Hearing
of the fertility and beauty of Kentucky they, like many others, decided
to emigrate to that land of promise. In 1785 they, with their infant
son Jasper, started out to brave the perils of the wilderness. Perils
there were in plenty. Kentucky at that time was the scene of repeated
Indian raids, ambuscades, burning of homes, scalpings, and other
atrocities. The Red Man was determined that his choicest Hunting Ground
should not be possessed by the White Man. The Indians were met by such
hardy and invincible scouts and frontiersmen as Daniel Boone, Simon
Kenton and George Rogers Clark. For years the conflict was carried on
until finally the savages were driven out of the state and its
marvelous valleys and hills were left to the white man there to fulfil
his destiny as the aborigines had theirs before him. The Very family
escaped the horrors of battle, massacre and captivity. They settled on
a site of great natural beauty in Lincoln County, near the Tennessee
line.
While the physical surroundings of the Verys were fairly entrancing, we
are sorry to confess that the moral environment was anything but
elevating and desirable. In fact the neighborhood was considered one of
the worst in all the newly settled country. It received the name of
Rogues' Harbor and well deserved the title. Many of the settlers had
committed crimes in the Eastern States and had fled to the wilderness
to escape punishment. They composed a majority of the people of the
district, and when arrested for breaking the law swore one another
clear in the courts of justice. At last the respectable people combined
for their own protection in an organization called the Regulators.
Several bloody encounters took place between the Regulators and the
outlaws before order was established in the community.
Jasper Very was a lively youngster from the start, and surely Rogues'
Harbor was not the best place in which to bring up a vigorous and
vivacious boy. He early showed elements of power and leadership, having
a remarkably strong and well developed body, being a stranger to fear,
a wit and a wag, and loving the rude sports and pastimes of the period.
Apart from the home there were few opportunities for mental or
religious training. Schools were few and scarcely worthy of the name.
No newspapers were published in that section. Sunday was a day set
apart for hunting, fishing, horse-racing, card-playing, dancing and
other amusements.
It is little wonder that Jasper became a wild and wicked boy. He was a
leader among his fellows in the rough sports of the time. His father
gave him a race-horse and he became renowned among his companions for
fearless riding. At card-playing he was skillful and lucky. But Jasper
had one blessed, restraining influence which doubtless kept him from
going the full course of sin and folly--a devout, humble, praying,
Christian mother.
Happy the boy who in the slippery paths of youth can lean upon the
loving arm of a godly mother.
When sixteen years of age Jasper experienced a great change of heart
and conduct. It was the turning point of his life. With his father and
brother he attended a wedding in the neighborhood. With others he took
part in the uproarious merriment of the occasion. Returning home he
began to think of his wicked ways, and at once felt condemned. His mind
became so agitated that his body was affected. His heart palpitated in
a very violent manner, his sight left him, and he thought death was at
hand. Very sure was he that he was not prepared to die. Falling on his
knees he cried to God to have mercy on his soul. Though it was late at
night his mother heard his cries, sprang from her bed, and was soon at
his side praying for her son, and exhorting him to look to Christ for
mercy. They prayed together a long time, and little sleep came to them
that night. Jasper resolved from that time to be a Christian. He asked
his father to sell the racehorse, and gave his pack of cards to his
mother, who threw them into the fire.
However, it was many days before Jasper really felt that he was
converted. Finally he found peace of mind at a camp meeting. We quote
from a record of his experience: "On the Saturday evening of said
meeting I went with weeping multitudes, bowed before the sand, and
earnestly prayed for mercy. In the midst of a solemn struggle of soul
an impression was made on my mind as though a voice said to me: 'Thy
sins are all forgiven thee.' Divine light flashed all around me,
unspeakable joy sprang up in my soul. I rose to my feet, opened my
eyes, and it really seemed as if I were in heaven; the trees, the
leaves on them, and every thing seemed to be, and I really thought
were, praising God. My mother raised a shout, my Christian friends
crowded around me and joined me in praising God--I have never doubted
that the Lord did then and there forgive my sins and gave me religion."
He went on his way rejoicing, and before he reached his majority became
a backwoods preacher. He had been ranging over the hills and valleys of
Kentucky for four years, preaching the gospel in many places, when he
is introduced to our readers.
Jasper Very was known early in his ministry as a great camp meeting
preacher. He was always partial to such gatherings, partly because at
one of them he had found religion. These meetings in the woods, "God's
first temples," are of enough importance to merit description in
another chapter.
CHAPTER II.
An Old Time Camp Meeting.
To Kentucky belongs the honor of originating the modern camp meeting.
This is no small distinction, when we consider how these institutions
have spread over the land and the great good they have done. Camp
meetings grew out of the needs of the times. When they providentially
sprang up in Kentucky, the frontier was sparsely settled, most people
living miles away from any church. Such churches as were built were
small and could accommodate only a few persons, and preaching services
were often weeks apart.
The revivals of genuine religion which usually attended these
gatherings were much needed in the backwoods. Most of the settlers were
honest, law-abiding persons, who had sought to improve their means by
emigrating to this western country; but many of the vicious
off-scouring of the older settlements also went west to hide their
crimes or to commit new ones. Rogues' Harbor was only an extreme type
of many law-defying places. Murderers, thieves, gamblers, defaulters
and their kind put life in peril, and threatened the moral and social
order of the state. These camp meetings strengthened and encouraged
good people, reformed many bad men and women, and thus became a saving
leaven of righteousness.
And what a place for a camp meeting was the Kentucky forest. What
nature poet can do justice to such sylvan loveliness as we find in the
"Blue Grass Region?" The pen must be dipped in the juices of that
Edenic vegetation and tinted with the blue of that arching sky to
record such beauty. What stately trees! They seemed like pillars in
God's own temple. The rich, warm limestone soil gave birth to trees in
form and variety scarce equaled in the world. Here grew in friendly
fellowship and rivalry the elm, ash, hickory, walnut, wild cherry,
white, black and read oak, black and honey locust, and many others.
Their lofty branches interlocking formed a verdant roof which did not
entirely shut out the sun's rays but caused a light subdued and
impressive as the light in a Saint Paul's Cathedral.
In such a forest was pitched the camp to which Jasper Very returned.
Let me describe this old-fashioned camp ground. A large, rough shed was
erected, capable of protecting five thousand persons from wind and
rain. It was covered with clapboards and furnished with puncheon seats.
At one end a large stand was built, from which sermons were preached. A
few feet in front of this stand a plain altar rail was set, extending
the full length of the preachers' stand. This altar was called the
"mourners' bench." All around the altar a liberal supply of fresh straw
was placed upon which the worshippers knelt. On three sides of the
large shed camps or cabins of logs were built for the use of the
attendants. In the rear of the preachers' stand was a large room which
accommodated all the ministers who labored in the meeting. The effect
at the camp at night was very striking. At intervals of several rods
log fires were kept burning and the bright light they threw was
contrasted with the deep darkness beyond.
It is astonishing to read how great an attraction these camps became to
the hardy pioneers of the Kentucky wilderness. People gathered from all
quarters in all kinds of vehicles, some traveling thirty or forty
miles. Many came in covered wagons in which they slept at night.
History records, that at Cane Ridge, Kentucky, a camp meeting was held
attended by twenty thousand people.
It is ten o'clock Sunday morning at Oak Grove Camp Meeting, where our
hero Jasper Very is laboring. Thousands are in the great wooden
structure, filling every seat and standing many deep beyond the edges
of the building. The preachers' stand contains twenty-five or thirty
ministers gathered from many parts of the State. The crowd has even
overflowed this stand, and all available room is occupied.
The Christians present have been prepared for this service by the cabin
meetings held at six o'clock in the morning and a prayer and testimony
meeting in the tabernacle at eight. And now the service begins. A
stalwart son of the prophets arises and announces the hymn:
"Come, sinners, to the gospel feast,
Let every soul be Jesus' guest:
There need not one be left behind,
For God hath bidden all mankind."
He starts the first note, and thousands take up the inspiring strain,
and the glorious music rolls through the forest like the sound of many
waters. A passage of Scripture is read and a fervent prayer offered. A
second hymn is sung: "There is a fountain filled with blood," and far
away the cadence is heard rising and falling, thrilling waves of sound.
The song is ended. A rustling noise is heard as the people settle
themselves in their places, and then a deep quiet ensues as they look
expectantly toward the preachers' stand. One whispers to another: "Who
is to be the preacher this morning?" They are not left long in doubt.
Slowly the minister arises. It is Jasper Very, the star preacher of the
camp meeting. He comes before his audience with a humble
self-possession which is reflected in the composure of his face. How
did he obtain this self-possession? Reader, we must lift the veil
somewhat and let you see.
In the morning he had gone into the deep woods to study and pray, as
was the wont of the forest preachers. Here he had prayerfully and
carefully completed the outline of his sermon. Then a great burden of
unfitness and helplessness came upon him. Like his Master he threw
himself prone upon the ground and poured out his soul to the Father. "O
God," he cried, "who am I, that I should be thy ambassador to beseech
sinners to be reconciled to thee? Who am I that I should stand between
the living and the dead and offer life and immortality to men? Thou, O
God, only art my sufficiency, my hope, my expectation. Stand by my side
and help me in this hour, for my need is great. This I ask in the name
of thy Son Jesus Christ. Amen."
Coming thus from the hidings of divine power, with the Spirit of God
like dew resting upon him, he announces his text: "Seek ye the Lord
while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near: let the
wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and let
him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our
God, for he will abundantly pardon."
He began by describing the way of the wicked. He unmasked sin, showing
its hideous deformity, how it pollutes the soul, and makes man unfit
for fellowship with a holy God. Then he passed on to show the guilt of
sin, the awful misery coming to a man when he is face to face with his
iniquities. With great skill he pointed out condemnation arising from
particular transgressions,--the defaulter fleeing from his country, the
murderer with his victim's bloody form ever before his mind's eye, the
lustful man tortured and consumed with the rewards of his own folly.
Continuing, he proceeded to tell the final punishment of these sinners.
In those days ministers at camp meetings preached a literal hell; and
as the speaker uncovered the pit of destruction and compelled his
hearers to look into it many felt that they were "hair hung and breeze
shaken" over the mouth of perdition.
Now his manner changed. His voice, instead of being loud and startling
like thunder, producing awe and terror, became sweet, tender, and
appealing, like a shepherd calling his sheep to the fold.
Having opened the wounds of sin, he poured into them the cordial of
gospel grace. He dwelt upon the words, "abundantly pardon," showing how
God had planned to put away sin by the gift of his Son and had promised
forgiveness to all guilty mortals who with hearty repentance and true
faith looked to Christ for salvation.
As he exalted the world's Redeemer from one plane to another his soul
was lifted up with indescribable joy and exultation. His voice and form
were in attune with his soul. We have read that this man's voice could
be heard a mile, and on this occasion it surely reached to the utmost
bounds of that great assembly. Extending his arms, as though he would
enfold the multitude and present them to the Savior, he besought
sinners to flee from impending wrath, to come to the altar and be saved
from sin so that they might "read their titles clear to mansions in the
skies."
The effect was tremendous. At once a rush was made for the mourners'
bench and it was soon filled. Many were stricken where they sat in the
congregation and fell on their knees imploring mercy. Around the
mourners gathered the saints of God, counseling, advising, quoting
suitable passages of Scripture, praying with the penitents. When the
meeting finally closed long after the dinner hour, scores professed
conversion, and a great victory for morality and religion in Kentucky
had been won.
CHAPTER III.
Swapping Stories.
The ministers were in the preachers' room on the afternoon of this camp
meeting day. They were scattered about in delightful abandon. Some had
thrown themselves on rough cots; others were lounging on rude benches
which served as seats; the few plain chairs which the place boasted
were also occupied. Most of the men were regaling themselves with the
fragrant Kentucky tobacco, and the blue smoke ascended in widening
spirals to the rafters above. They felt they must unbend after the
severe mental tension of the morning.
What a fine spirit of comradeship is found among a group of preachers
of one heart and mind. Can anything on earth surpass it? Here we find
the hearty handshake, the contagious laugh, faces bright with smiles, a
free flow of talk. We see hilarity without vulgarity, wit that
sparkles, but does not burn, as when a bright sally directed at some
brother's foibles is met with a quick repartee. We listen to anecdotes
which cheer and enliven the senses without hurting the conscience or
debasing the mind.
"Brother Larkin, give us a bit of wit or philosophy from 'Poor Richard'
or tell us one of your good anecdotes."
The man addressed was John Larkin. He was about thirty-five years old
and was known as the "square man" both as to body and mind. His head
seemed more square than round, and was set upon a strong neck which
rested upon square shoulders. From shoulders to the ground he was in
the form of a parallelogram. His hands were wide and short, the fingers
being of nearly equal length, giving the hands a blunt, square
appearance. His gray eyes were wide apart, having a sly and merry cast
in them, while crow lines in their corners gave them a laughing
expression. His firm mouth and square chin showed that he could mingle
seriousness with mirth. He was considerably under the average height,
but thickset and strong.
John Larkin was of New England descent. When a small boy he had moved
with his parents from "'way down East" to far-famed Kentucky. There he
helped his father clear the wilderness and make a comfortable home. At
twenty-three years of age he was powerfully converted, and soon after
became a traveling preacher.
John had stored his mind with the homely proverbs of Benjamin Franklin
and many bright sayings of other writers. He saw the ludicrous side of
things and was fond of telling anecdotes. Hence the request which a
brother minister made of him.
"About two months ago," said Larkin, "I had an appointment to preach in
a private house. The boys of the family had a pet sheep which they had
taught to butt. Going near him, they would make motions with their
heads, and the sheep would back out and dart forward at the boys; but
they would jump aside and so escape. A drunken man came into the
congregation and sat on the end of a bench near the door. He had
caroused the whole night before and presently began to nod. As he
nodded and bent forward, the sheep came along by the door and seeing
the man moving his head up and down, took it as a banter and backed and
then sprang forward, and gave the sleeper a severe jolt right on the
head, and over he tilted him. The whole congregation laughed outright
and I joined in with them."
The preachers laughed at the story as heartily as those who saw the
occurrence. One stout parson remarked: "The tipsy man surely was the
butt of that joke." A clergyman from down Cumberland River way said: "I
hope the sheep knocked drunkenness out of him and common sense and
decency into him."
Larkin, his face wreathed in smiles, turned to a great strapping
Kentuckian, and said: "Now Brother Harvey, let us hear from you."
The man addressed was well known by the company. Naturally strong he
grew up on a farm, where his out-of-doors life added to temperate
habits gave him a finely developed body. He lived with his wife and
five grown up children on a splendid quarter section of land bordering
on the Cumberland River. He was a lay preacher, cultivating his farm
week days and preaching on Sunday.
"Well, brethren," began David Harvey, "I could tell you stories of wild
Indians, panthers and wild cats that I saw in my youth, and some
tolerably trying experiences I have been through since becoming a
preacher, but today I am going to repeat a tale I heard not long ago
concerning Jasper Very. He seems comfortable there sitting on one bench
with his feet on another, and if my story lacks anything he can supply
the missing links.
"Brother Very was attending a camp meeting in the edge of Tennessee
when an incident of thrilling interest occurred. Two young men,
distantly related, sons of respectable and wealthy parents, lived in
the settlement. They were both paying attention to a very wealthy young
lady. Soon a rivalship for her hand sprang up between them, which
created a bitter jealousy in the heart of each. After quarreling and
fighting they both armed themselves, and each bound himself by a solemn
oath to kill the other. Armed with pistols and dirks they attended the
camp meeting. Brother Very was acquainted with the young men, and had
been told of the unfortunate affair. On Sunday he was preaching to a
large congregation on the terrors of the law. Many fell under the
preaching of the word. He called for mourners to come to the altar and
the two young men, deeply convicted of sin, came and knelt before God.
One entered on the right and the other on the left, each being ignorant
of the act of the other. The preacher went deliberately to each of
them, took their deadly weapons from their bosoms, and carried them
into the preachers' room. Returning he labored faithfully with them and
others nearly all the afternoon and night. These young men cried hard
for mercy, and while he was kneeling by the side of one of them, just
before the break of day, the Lord spake peace to his soul. He arose,
and gave some thrilling shouts. Jasper then hurried to the other young
man, at the other side of the altar, and he was saved in less than
fifteen minutes and, standing upright, shouted victory. As these young
men faced about they saw each other, and starting simultaneously, met
about midway of the altar, and instantly clasped each other in their
arms. What a shout went up to heaven that night from these young men,
and from almost all the number present."
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